Pirates of the Caribbean 2: The Dead Man's Chest
by Rogue137
Summary: Captain Jack Sparrow is being stalked by the infamous DEAD pirate Davy Jones and his ghastly crew. In his desperation for help, he joins up with Will and Elizabeth...and a fiery Irish barmaid. JackOC
1. Chapter 1

**Author: Hallo there! This is my first POTC fic, but I've been fanficing for a while. I've got about 3 other s/n's here, each with at least 3 incomplete stories on it….:P Oh, well. I PROMISE I'll try to finish this one though….I PROMISE!**

**Disclaimer: (sighs) Sadly, I do not own Pirates of the Caribbean. Nor Johnny Depp….(breaks down into tears) (stops crying) But I do own my original characters, such as Alex and Pete Gerald!**

**Pirates of the Caribbean 2:**

**The Dead Man's Chest  
**

**IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII**

"Yo ho, yo ho, a pirates life for me…" Captain Jack Sparrow paused in his singing. "Dammit, Anamaria! You got that song stuck in me head!"

The dark-skinned pirate woman just grinned and gave the captain a cocky two-fingered salute.

"Wench," Jack muttered, rapping his fingers rhythmically on the wheel. After a moment's hesitation, he struck up the pirates' ode again under his breath.

"Na na na na nana...and really bad eggs…" he muttered. It was nearly midnight and there was a drowsy lull on the ship.

"Cap'n!" a gruff voice called from the deck.

"What is it, Mr. Gibbs?" Sparrow asked wearily, slightly annoyed about being interrupted during his musical number.

"Nikket just spotted land, sir," the scruffy-looking man said. "Just thought you ought ta know."

"Thank you Mr. Gibbs," he replied, though truly he didn't give a damn.

After a few minutes the thin, shadowy coastline became clearer and more solid.

"Tortuga," Jack Sparrow sighed with both a fondness and a mild dislike.

After Jack was able to dock the Black Pearl, he turned to his crew, who were obviously eager to get a drink or find themselves next to very curvy women in the morning. Counting out Anamaria, of course. Okay, he didn't want to think about that…

"Be back at at least noon, alright?" he bellowed as they made their way off the ship. After impatient 'ayes' from them, he sent them off. "Have fun, and don' get shot or gutted. Wouldn't want that!" There were some chuckles from the crew, but most were already making their way to the prostitute/pirate/ne'er-do-well-filled streets, fervent for an alcoholic drink in their hands.

Jack sighed. They'd always be the same. Then again, he would too. He grinned as he headed out onto the streets, visions of rum and women swimming in his mind.

**IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII**

Alexandria McCain was in a sour mood.

She had just narrowly avoided being manhandled by her employer, and was now sulkily serving rum to the already drunken patrons of the DANCING PONY in punishment for protecting her honor.

The usual dishwasher and barmaid, Alex hated being a waitress. She always had to endure constant slaps on the rear and fondling of her…well, good thing she always kept a sharpened dagger hidden in her bodice. The hotheaded young Irish woman never hesitated in bringing it out and telling the overeager men that she had slit throats before and would be obliged to do so again if she felt like it.

Most of the time, no matter how drunk they were, the men of Tortuga got the message.

"Still workin' here, eh?" one grizzled old man said to Alex as she served him the house special.

"Aye," she said wearily. "Redbeard tried to woo me a few hours ago, an' now I got waitress duty fer nickin' him with me knife." Redbeard, her employer, was a large man with a red bushy, unkempt beard and beefy hands. "I jess wanted ta git a point across, yah know?" she sighed. "Anyway, wha' 'ave ye been up to lately, Mr. Gerald?"

"Please Alex, call me Pete," he said gruffly, waving his hand around as if expelling the formalities. Pete Gerald was a lean, tough-looking man in his late fifties, perhaps. He wore a dirty, stained shirt and patched, worn trousers tucked into just as badly patched tarnished, black boots. His hair was a wild mass of grey. His teeth were slightly yellowed when he smiled warmly. "And business is goin' fine…"

"ALEX!" a harsh voice bellowed suddenly. "I don' pay yah to socialize! Back to work!" Alex groaned and rolled her eyes.

"Talk ta yah later, I s'pose," she said to Pete as she went back into the hordes of drunken men. When the last of the nearly unconscious drunks were kicked out, Alex walked back inside to clean up with the rest of the girls. Just when she was about to leave, however, out of the corner of her eye she saw a lone figure leaning against a dark wall. Curious, but ready to defend herself if she had to, she approached the person.

"Mr. Gerald!" she exclaimed when she recognized the mass of wild gray hair. "I though' yah left!"

"I was waiting for you to get off your shift," Pete told her. "You said we'd talk later, so let's talk as I escort you home."

"Alright…" she said, pleasantly surprised. Alex hated walking to her home alone at night. She was always a target for womanizers. She trusted Pete, though. He was like an uncle to her.

The two of them walked hurriedly through the streets as to avoid pickpockets. When they reached Alex's door, she smiled at Pete and pecked him lightly on the cheek.

"Thank ye kindly, Mr. Gerald," she said with a small smile on her face. Pete's face flushed a bit.

"I told ye to call me Pete, you flattering wench," he said teasingly, patting her arm and turning to go. But he paused. "Did ya hear, Miss McCain? Jack Sparrow has the Black Pearl again. I heard 'tis a great tale, an' he's landing soon. Perhaps he'll come to the _Pony_, eh? " Alex unintentionally stiffened.

"Perhaps," she said, really wishing he wouldn't. "G'night, Mr. Ger… _Pete_." Pete raised hit hat in farewell and went on his way as Alex opened the door and went into the shabby stone warehouse that she lived with many other girls.

**IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII**

The next night was as crowded and tiring as the last. Alex was still assigned to waitress duty. Mr. Higgens, or Redbeard as he was called behind his back, obviously still felt the sting of the cut she had given him the day before.

However, she would have waitressed for the rest of her life if she knew what was to happen.

As Alex was pouring drinks, she noticed John Higgens was heading toward her. Her stomach churned distastefully as he leaned toward her ear.

"Alexandria," the barman hissed. "Follow me."

He grabbed her arm. Alex instinctively wrenched it out.

"I'm doing my job righ' now, Mr. Higgens," she muttered in an almost spiteful voice. Redbeard laughed menacingly and Alex felt the sharp point of a knife against the small of her back. The pressure sent sparks of panic up her spine.

"Ye can check yer bodice, Miss McCain," he said into her ear. "It's _yer_ dagger I have in me hand." But Alex didn't have to check. She only just noticed that the comforting weight of her weapon against her chest was gone.

"I always had a gift fer pick-pocketing," he chuckled sinisterly. He then led the fiercely resisting Alex to the back alley behind the bar. He slammed her against the cold stone wall. He then leaned forward and kissed her roughly on the lips. She could smell spiced rum on his breath. Alex, her mind spinning wildly now, tried to kick him, disarm him in a way. _Any _way. But it was no use. She was pinned, and Redbeard was at least twice as strong as she.

"Stop it!" she screamed, struggling against the iron grip he had on her. "Get _off_ me, you bastard!"

Redbeard just chuckled manically again, and slapped her across the face. The blow almost knocked her out.

"Aw…" he mockingly crooned as she gripped the right side of her face, gasping in pain. "Be a pity to mar that pretty face." He suddenly grabbed her and threw her down, sending her sprawling into the dirty street. He straddled her, pinning her to the ground. One hand holding her wrist, Higgens laid the edge of her knife against her throat. Electric currents of fear coursed through Alex's veins. She didn't dare to breathe.

Higgens snickered again and flipped the dagger so that the broad side of the blade lay flat on her throat instead of the sharpened edge.

"Yer to pretty to waste," he hissed, sending a wave of spiced rum-induced breath into her face. He then slowly ran the blade across her throat in an almost loving caress and began to lead it, handle down, keeping the blade on her skin. When the blade reached the low collar of her blouse, Higgens sneered greedily, a mad glint in his eyes.

"I'm going to enjoy this," he whispered hoarsely. He raised the handle so that the knife was now horizontal, the point just above her blouse. Alex was still struggling uselessly from under the heavy man, paled a few more shades and began to shriek, hoping desperately that someone, _any_one, would hear her and help her. Before it was too late.

But as John Higgens ripped her blouse open with her dagger, despite her violent protests, she knew it was no use. The sounds of midnight partying, gunfire, and drunken fighting would drown out her voice.

_Damn this cursed hell of a town! _She thought hopelessly as he began to feel her up.

"_No!"_ she screamed, angry and fearful tears welling up in her whiskey-colored eyes. _"Stop it!"_ Redbeard then proceeded to lift up her skirt, and pulling down his own trousers. He was panting eagerly; his eyes had a frighteningly animal look in them.

Suddenly, she was able to wrench a hand free and punch him hard in the face. She took this chance to bolt.

Unfortunately, John Higgens recovered from her blow quicker then she would have thought. A searing pain in her right shoulder as he sliced it with her dagger made her stumble and cry out in pain. Alex fell on her knees, gripping her bleeding shoulder.

_Oh, God, no…_

**IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII**

**Author's Note: Weeee! Cliffhanger! Sorry, that was really explicit, wasn't it? Well, I'm trying to broaden my writing criteria. I've never written anything this dark before. Don't worry, though, it'll get happier….(see Emo reviewers walk away, sulking)….erm, at least it'll be better for some people. Hee. **

**REVIEW, MY PRECIOUSSSSS! **


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: (sigh) Just two reviews. Oh, well. Better then none.**

**Reviewers: **

**Black angel: I'm glad you like it!**

**Nuriel: Of course she will! Do you think I'm that evil to my characters…..most of the time…..(sheepish grin)**

**Morris: Updating as soon as I could!**

**SenatorSolo: I love Irish characters, too. And I have a little extra fact that I'm going to add in the author's note at the end of the chapter…**

**Disclaimer: Who? Me? Nope, sir, I don't own nothin'.**

**Pirates of the Caribbean 2:**

**The Dead Man's Chest**

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_Ah…Getting drunk and fondling beautiful ladies. What could be better than this?_ Jack Sparrow thought as he swaggered out of the _Pig's Eye_. He took another jolly swing of his longneck, and sighed in pleasure as he walked the streets, looking around hopefully for a good room and a curvy prostitute.

"That was a warning, wench!" a hoarse voice snarled from an alley ahead. Jack's brows furrowed as he tottered into the alley behind the _Dancing Pony_.

There, in the very dim lamplight, he was able to make out a large, burly man with a purpling bruise on his cheek standing over a woman, bloody knife in his hand. The woman was on the ground, staring hatefully at him, gripping a bleeding shoulder.

"An eye…" she hissed, pointing to his bruise, and then to hers. "For an eye."

"You filthy whore!" the man growled, taking her by the hair on the nape of her neck, pulling her up as she protested in pain.

"No one can hear you scream…" he hissed, running the blade of the dagger against her bruised cheek.

Now _that_ sobered Captain Jack Sparrow up completely. Just as the woman shrieked and beat at the heavy man desperately, Jack went up behind him with grim determination, and tapped him on the shoulder.

When the man let go of the woman for that second, and turned around, Jack said gravely, "That's not very nice, mate," and smashed his rum bottle on the man's head. The assailant first went ridged, and then fell over with a heavy 'thunk'.

The woman just stared first at the unconscious body, then at Jack in shock.

"You…" he said mildly, pointing the now broken neck of the bottle at her. "You owe me another one of these." He shook the bottle neck slightly, for effect.

"I…you…" the woman sputtered. She had a strangely familiar Irish accent. "Th-thank ye, sir."

"Don' mention it," he said lightly. He cleared his throat. "Yah might want to…um…" He gestured vaguely at her open blouse, which was revealing a very nice, in Jack's opinion, lacy corset. The woman looked down, and her face reddened in the dim light.

"Pardon me," she muttered, quickly wrapping the torn openings together to cover her.

"Here, luv," Jack said softly to her, handing her his jacket. The woman took it and covered herself with that, too. In doing so, however, she had stepped into brighter light. Jack cocked his head. Her medium-length, tawny brown hair was matted with dirt and sweat, but still looked slightly familiar. But it was her eyes that triggered something. Her whiskey-colored eyes.

As she bent down to pick up the fallen dagger that her rapist had been holding, he spoke.

"Do I know you from somewhere?" he asked curiously. At first he woman puzzled as she peered at him, her brows knitted. Then her expression changed completely.

"Captain…Jack…Sparrow," she said, her voice no longer soft and beaten, but now cold and hard. "Aye, I remember yah."

"Really?" he said cautiously. "From where, may I ask?"

"Pull down yer shirt over yer righ' shoulder," she said slyly, a menacing tone icing her Irish lilt. "See if tha' triggers somethin'."

Jack obeyed and examined the long scar that curved over his shoulder. It took a minute for the realization to click.

"Ah…" he said, wincing. "You're_ that_ girl."

She nodded sarcastically with a cold smirk on her lips.

Putting the shirt back in place, Jack said meekly, "You do have quite developed breasts, though, luv."

**IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII**

Alex raised a menacing brow, along with her dagger.

"Ye want me ta give yah a matching scar with the one you got now, Mr. Sparrow?" she threatened, pointing the dagger at him. "Or can I gut ye?"

"Just stating the facts, luv," Jack said mildly. "But, like you said…'an eye for an eye,' right?" He gestured first to her bleeding shoulder, then to his scarred one.

Alex snarled at him.

"You might want to see that looked after, though, darling," Jack added calmly, pointing to her shoulder again.

"I'm fine, yah pirate," she snapped, although her shoulder was throbbing painfully. She looked at the unconscious Higgens at her feet.

"I need ta git ou' 'o here," she muttered, stowing her dagger back into her bodice and walking past Jack toward the street.

"I didn't catch your name," Jack said. Alex paused for a moment.

"Alexandria McCain," she said simply without turning around.

"Well Alex…"

"Miss McCain," she corrected harshly, spinning around to face him.

"Miss McCain," Sparrow restated politely. "Just wanted to tell ye to watch yerself a little more carefully now."

"Understood, Mr. Sparrow," Alex replied coldly. "But let me warn ye, tha' if yah try to fondle me again, it'll be _ye_ who'd be needin' to wat—"

**BOOM**.

Both Alex and Jack jumped in surprise.

"Wha' in God's name was _tha_'?" Alex exclaimed.

"Cannon fire," Jack answered calmly, almost amused.

"_Cannon_ fire?" Alex repeated, dumbfounded. Never in her lifetime had Tortuga ever been attacked. Of course there was the occasional riot, but that was it.

The two of them ran out onto the street to see what exactly was happening. From their point of view, they could see an outline of a ship, and tiny puffs of smoke whenever it sent out another cannon.

"Déjà vu," Jack muttered, sighing. "It'd be better if yah run," he said to Alex, suddenly grave. "Attacks like this sometimes lead to total destruction."

"What?" Alex said, incredulous.

There were screams and shouts echoing through the streets as crowds of people panicked, trying to escape.

Suddenly, a chilling cold swept through the town. It was strange, because it was the middle of the summer, and that night was also a hot one. The hairs on Alex's neck and arms stood straight up as she was covered in goosebumps. Even Jack Sparrow looked wary now.

"Wha's goin' on?" Alex said, fear spiking her heart as a lazy mist began to envelop the town. The ship, which had now stopped firing cannons, suddenly took on an eerie green glow.

"I know that ship," Jack said suddenly, an uncommon look of fright in his eyes. "Oh, _damn…_"

"'Ello Jack."

Both Alex and Jack whipped around. Jack actually yelled in surprise.

Standing before them was the most ghastly thing she had ever seen. It looked like a cross between a man, a squid, and a crab. It looked rotten, and was covered in barnacles. Its eyes were blood-shot red and evil looking. The monster was leaning on a moldy-looking cane.

The thing took a step toward Jack.

"C-Captain Jones," Jack said, regaining his composure. "Wonderful…to see you again."

"Five years, wasn't it?" said the creature coldly. "Five years I've given ye to pay yer debt."

"Well…well, you see, there's a good reason for that…" Jack said, looking cornered.

"Ye made a blood oath, yah blasted swindler!" the creature roared. He leaned into Jack Sparrow's face. "And Davey Jones has his punishments for oath-breakers…"

"Whoa now!" Jack said, stepping away from Captain Davey Jones, laughing weakly. "L-let me explain before you give out any…punishments. See, I've been very busy—"

"I want me chest, Sparrow!" Jones cut off angrily. "An' yer goin' ta give it to me. Ye have three days, Sparrow."

"Three?" Jack repeated in a protesting tone.

"Yah want it to be two?" Jones snarled. "Three days, or ye'll be swabbin' the decks of the _Flying Dutchman_ fer eternity. Understood?"

"E-_eternity_?" Jack stuttered.

"Yes, you idiot," Jones mocked. "Ye don' get me chest in three days, or ye'll be cursed to an afterlife of eternal servitude and damnation. Three days, _Captain_ Jack Sparrow…" And with that, he disappeared, along with the ghostly ship and the mist.

The town seemed to be in shock. People who had been screaming and running it panic were frozen, staring out into the quiet, calm sea.

"Well…" Jack finally said, his voice a bit constricted. "Better round up the crew."

Alex, who had been frozen just as the other people of Tortuga, came back to the present.

"Let me go with ye," Alex said, grabbing Jack's arm. Jack raised an inquiring eyebrow.

"I had the impression you wanted to gut me," he said.

"Well I can' stay here anymore," Alex said, letting go of his arm.

"Well yah can't come with me," Jack told her sternly.

"Well I can' work here anymore. The bar was the only place I could find work," Alex protested.

"You can find another bar," Jack suggested indifferently.

"I was lucky ta be hired at the Pony. There's too many o' us in Tortuga, an' too little jobs."

"You could be a prostitute."

"_Sparrow…_"

"I'm kidding!"

Alex was fuming. "I'm goin' ta go with ye, whether ye like it or not."

"Stubborn wrench, aren't you?" Jack said, giving in. "Alright. Do you know anything about sailing?"

Silence.

"Well you'd certainly be a help," Jack muttered, heading toward the docks. Alex, face reddened with embarrassment, followed.

"You can't come, Miss McCain," Jack said in a monotone.

"I can swab the decks," Alex said desperately. "Make meals! I can learn to sail, fer God's sake! I'm a fast learner..."

Jack groaned and spun around.

"I said no!" Jack exclaimed exasperatedly. "If you can't hold your own, you're jest going to get in the way of the crew!" Alex glared at him, pulling out her dagger.

"I'm no gentle lady, Sparrow," she snarled, pointing her knife at him. "If anything, I _can_ hold my own." Jack hesitated, looking at the dagger.

"Alright, Miss McCain…"

"Alex."

"Alex…" Jack said, sighing. "You may join my crew. On _two _conditions…" He held up two fingers. "Keep your dagger in your bodice, and ye still need to buy me that bottle o' rum." He grinned.

"Aye, Cap'n," Alex replied, rolling her eyes and stowing the dagger back into said bodice again.

"Alright then!" Jack said, clapping his hands together. "Looks like me boys are leaving a little sooner then expected. Let's round them up."

The two of them then set off to find the crew of the Black Pearl.

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**Author's Note: Okay, two things and then you can review. One; I'm going to talk in an Irish accent at school on Monday! Please, if you can, do it too! Two; I found a picture of Davey Jones. You know, how he's going to look in the 2nd movie? Yep. And he's CGI! Who woulda thunk? **


End file.
